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C Quotes

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All C Quotes

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her. ” Leave me alone,” she managed to say, stumbling back. The enkanto caught her before she fell, supporting her with his good arm. ” Let her alone,” said the enkanto, “or I will curse you blind, lame, and worse." The old man laughed. “I'm a curse breaker, fool." The elf grabbed one of the Jim Beam bottles from the table and slammed it down, so that he was holding a jagged glass neck. The elf smiled a very thin smile. “Then I won't bother with magic.”

“Come on. I know you're not a stupid man.' 'I'm quite stupid. Ask anyone.' 'Finbar, are there superheroes living among us?' Finbar snorted with laughter and Kenny started to feel a little thick. 'Superheroes? In tights and capes, flying around? If there were superheroes, Mr. Journalist, don't you think they'd be in New York or somewhere like that? There's not that many tall buildings for Spiderman to swing from in Dublin, you know? He'd have maybe two good swings and then hang there looking disappointed.' 'These people don't wear tights and capes, Finbar.' 'So they're naked superheroes? That's grand for now, but when the good weather is over they're going to regret it.' 'They look like us. They dress like us. But they're not like us. They're different.' 'You,' Finbar said. 'Are sounding very racist right now.”

“Come on." I took his hand and stood, pulling him up with me. "Let's go home. Aren't you tired of being in this house?" meant the words lightly, but he looked around the sunlit ruins with solemn eyes. "It's strange," he said softly. "I think I'll miss it." And I realized that in every life he had lived, this was his only home and he had never left. "I miss hating my sister," I said, pulling him toward the gateway. "She's a little bit more wicked now, so I can't even hate her for being too kind." But when we were almost at the threshold, he paused again, and this time there was naked fear on his face. "You do realize," he said. "I don't remember how to be anything but a demon lord and his shadow." "I'm still not very good at being anything but a wicked sister." I took his other hand. A handful of kindness, the sparrow had said, and now we each had two. "We'll both be foolish," I said, "and vicious and cruel. We will never be safe with each other." "Don't try too hard to be cheerful." His fingers threaded through mine. "But we'll pretend we know how to love." I smiled at him. "And someday we'll learn." And we walked out through the gateway together.”

“Come on, I want to take you around to the back, to see St. Anthony's Garden," he said. Delicate bell clangs marked the half hour, and a mockingbird called through the still air as the group entered the garden. The green space was dominated by the tall white statue of a man with arms raised in welcome. "St. Anthony is known as the protector of childless women and finder of lost things," explained Falkner. "This area has had many functions over the years. It was a place for gatherings, markets, meals---even a dueling ground. Père Antoine, one of the cathedral's popular pastors, used the space as a kitchen garden to feed his monks. He also worked with voodoo priestess Marie Laveau to assist the large slave population, especially women and children." "A Roman Catholic priest collaborating with a voodoo priestess?" asked one of the tourists, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. Falkner nodded. "They had more in common than you may think. They both had a desire to heal, sooth, and do good works. They were both very spiritual people. Marie Laveau blended voodoo with Catholicism, especially regarding the saints.”

“Come on, Jack. Be reasonable. Let’s run this up the chain of command.” “Acker will never approve, and even if he does, we would have to deal with some Barney Fife type cop up in Manistee, and he would never agree. I’m screwed either way.” “Who’s Barney Fife?” “He’s an old television character…oh…never mind . . .”

“Come on, let's get you an apron." There probably wasn't any real point in making him wear something over his fur and ragged clothes. Still, she tied a tablecloth up and around his neck, trying not to make him look ridiculous. Actually, if the thick white cloth had leather straps, he could easily be Hephaestus or one of his titan helpers working the forge on Olympus. But they were going to make ratatouille, not swords for heroes. "...And buckwheat crepes, and an onion tart, and coq au... um... Riesling, in a skillet," she added thoughtfully, looking at the time. The clock in the kitchen didn't talk, thankfully. "We don't have time for a true coq au vin or cassoulet. Oooh, and a tarte tatin for dessert!”

“Come on, let's get you to bed.' I lean in and kiss the scar on his eyebrow. 'It will be tomorrow when you wake up.' 'I don't deserve you.' His arm curls around my hips and he tugs me closer. 'But I'm going to keep you all the same.' 'Good.' I lean in and brush my lips over his. 'Because I think I'm in love with you.' My heart beats erratically, and panic claws up my rib cage. I shouldn't have said it. His eyes flare wide and his arms tighten around me. 'You think? Or you know?' Be brave. Even if he doesn't feel the same, at least I will have spoken my truth. 'I know. I'm so wildly in love with you that I can't imagine what my life would even look like without you in it. And I probably shouldn't have said that, but if we're doing this, then we're starting from a place of complete honesty.' He crushes his mouth to mine and pulls me fully into his lap so I'm straddling him. He kisses me so deep that I lose myself in it, in him.”

“Come on, let’s go! Move your butter muffin butt!” “My what?” Mary asked with a surprised look. “Butter muffin butt,” Aja said with a smile; her angelic face glowed. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Mary asked as she slid out of the truck seat. Aja wasn’t far behind. “Well, I make it a point to never say curse words, and, well, butter muffin sounds as close to mother effin as I could think of,” she said with an increased sweetness to her voice.”

“Come on, Princess," he called to the bench, and Carlotta bounced up. She was wide like the rest of them, but no man could fairly say she was too wide. The most that could be said was that she did not have much further to go before she would have to start squeezing it in and strapping it up, which she clearly did not do now. She let it hang where it was, and it did very nicely by itself. As she passed among the boys they looked her over with unconcealed envy, as though they knew she had something they didn't have but were not quite sure what it was. One thing was certain, she got more exercise than they did. The next to be noticed were her braids, they hung forward over her terrain, ignoring as much as possible her contours, like two shiny black meridianal lines demarking her longitudes as far down as the equator. It was not hard to imagine oneself spending a long lifetime on that bare little island alone, with no plan or ambition, too overcome with the heat to continue on south to the pole, far less return to the continents. Nothing productive could ever be accomplished there, but there would be comfort such as few men have known, there would be torpor. The body swelled with such thoughts, the mind shrank from them, and the longing eyes traveled finally up north, to where those meridians came together at a point above a bland white area vaguely charted, with few landmarks, no doubt sparsely inhabited. There the imagination halted.”

“Come on, put on a smile. Believe me: it looks good on you. Try a smile, and see if you won't love it. Just smile. It's a free and yet potent medicine. Now, smile. Whatever you cannot get with a smile will even be harder to get with a frown. So, smile. Your attraction to good life and happiness is just one smile away. Please smile. It's your key to people's hearts. You should smile; for smile surprises people.”

“Come on, tough guy.” “You can get fresh with me in the snow and threaten me with a gun all you want. But if you really want my help, you’ll put your weight on me and move your feet.” “In about two minutes, my extremities are going to be so numb I won’t be able to do anything for either of us—even if you do shoot. So move.” He couldn’t have been rescued by some meek, mousy thing who’d do what he said without the attitude? He tapped the butt of the gun against her shoulder. “That’s pretty bold talk for a woman who’s got no advantage.” “Uh-huh. I’m not the one bleeding to death.”